


you like making me wait for it

by acastle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, PWP, Strippers & Strip Clubs, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5174015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry would wish that he were in a different outfit, that he wouldn't have to meet this angel in a ridiculous costume that is much too right for him, but. The bloke is wearing the same thing, unstyled hair swooping in a soft swirl, the police cap in his hands, and he looks unfairly good in the outfit, his body tight and defined.</p><p>As if the pants were tight enough on Harry.</p><p>(in simpler terms, Harry and Niall work as cheesy dancers that aren't quite strippers but are close to it, and Harry's kind of wanted Niall since he's met him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you like making me wait for it

**Author's Note:**

> very (very, very) loosely based on these [tags.](http://ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com/post/132323496480#notes)
> 
> Super self-indulgent, mostly sex with other stuff shoehorned in. 
> 
> Click links if you want song references but they aren't necessary.

The uniform today is. Well. A uniform.

Police outfit, button-up shirt and trousers and shiny shoes. There’s even a hat, and Harry wants to laugh at it all, but Louis beats him to it.

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” he says through his chuckles, the tears in his eyes. “As if this job of yours couldn’t get more ridiculous, Posh-”

“Shut it, Lou,” Liam, ever the level-headed one, admonishes the oldest out of all of them. “At least Harry’s paying his part of the rent. Nevermind what he does just to do it, nothing wrong with it.”

“Mind if I borrow this next week, Haz?” Louis completely ignores him, lifts up to shirt to his torso and displaying it to them. “Be sick to trick those snobs in the art department, make them think they’re actually being arrested-”

“Don’t think it works if they know it’s you wearing it, Lou,” Harry sighs, taking the shirt from him and frowning a little. “This is going to be a night.”

“I think this beats the time when you were made to dress up as a teacher,” Louis continues, still not listening to anything he or Liam are saying. “These old ladies are _freaky._ ”

“They’re not all old, Lou, stop it. And don’t call them freaky.”

“You need to try this on,” he says, grinning as he plops the hat down on Harry’s head. “Need some pictures as well, great blackmail material-”

“Fuck off, Lou, get to work,” he says, grabbing his outfit for the night and stuffing it in his overnight bag, making to leave as Louis continues to cackle behind him, Liam mumbling about _“lack of decency,” “lack of tact,”_ and _“Christ, Tommo, he’s been doing this for months, the novelty’s supposed to have worn off, by now.”_

*

“Did they choose a shirt that’s at least two sizes too small on purpose?” Harry mutters as he tries to stretch and move in his shirt. He can’t breathe for shit in it. “Like, I’m pretty sure my third and fourth nipples are seen in this outfit.”

“Skintight, Harry,” Zayn says, lazily flicking his cigarette as he blows out smoke into the cold, still air of the night. His own uniform looks painted on, clinging to his lithe, thin but unfairly, perfectly-proportioned body. “It's not like you're hard to look at. Nice arms, them legs, you know. All that."

"Knob can hardly breathe," he mutters, wincing uncomfortably as he stands, tries to stretch out his legs a bit.

"Please, the pants you wear are tighter than those, you twat," he snorts, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. Harry thinks sometimes that Zayn were a dragon in human form.

"I look ridiculous."

"Kind of disagree, mate, but alright."

Zayn and Harry look over to the new voice, and Harry immediately loses his words. Blonde hair, brown at the roots, blue blue eyes that shock him to the pit of his stomach, the warmest grin on a disarmingly adorable, yet unexpectedly handsome face.

Harry would wish that he were in a different outfit, that he wouldn't have to meet this angel in a ridiculous costume that is much too right for him, but. The bloke is wearing the same thing, unstyled hair swooping in a soft swirl, the police cap in his hands, and he looks unfairly good in the outfit, his body tight and defined.

As if the pants were tight enough on Harry.

"You must be our third," Zayn says with a tilt of his head, small smile on his face. "Zayn. Nice to meet you."

"Niall," he introduces himself, grin just getting wider. Leans forward to shake Zayn's hand, turns to Harry and Harry chokes.

"I'm- uh, I'm," he stutters, shaking Niall's offered hand. His grip is firm, fingers slightly rough, and it is oddly attractive. "I'm Harry. Sorry. I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you," Niall replies, nice enough to not mention Harry's ineloquence if ever he mentions it. Just smiles wider at him, eyes bright with kindness.

"Never seen you before, mate," Zayn remarks, taking another puff. "Would remember someone like you."

"That's 'cause I'm new," Niall replies easily, slightest hit of a blush on his face as he answers. "Needed some cash, to start paying off my student loans. Nick got me an in with his boss, knew they'd need someone to replace him once he left, so."

"You know Grimmy?" Zayn speaks for them both.

"Been my mate since we were put up together in a flat back when I was still in uni," Niall answers. "You've worked with him?"

"'Lifeguards' at a beach-themed bachelorette party," Harry offers quietly, finally deciding to speak, and it does wonders for his ego when Niall throws his head back in laughter. He's loud and uninhibited when he laughs, uncaring about what's around him. Harry's so smitten already, he's ridiculous.

"Would have paid to see that," Niall says, turning to look at him with a wide, wide grin, and Harry wants to kiss him.

When Niall launches into a story of how he first met Nick, an incident where he had walked into the apartment on moving in day and found his new roommate trying to throw his mattress out the window, Harry feels an elbow dig into his side, looks over to see Zayn smirking at him, cocking his eyebrows cheekily, and Harry knows he's been caught staring. Feels the way his skin is too hot, his already tight clothes getting that much more snug.

The actual party is much worse.

A group of lovely, enthusiastic, over zealous group of women in their mid-forties, all a bit further along than tipsy when they had arrived to the venue for tonight, an apartment over in one of the posher buildings in London, ended up being the ones hiring them for the night. All married, all dressed in designer clothing, all with perfect hair and teeth and he knows they’re going to be tipped well tonight.

He’s got no idea why he’s got this kind of job. Same goes for Zayn. They’re not really dancers, but they do look good, he supposes. Zayn never puts all that much effort into how he moves, barely does the very minimum of what’s required of him, the occasional body roll, hip-swaying, ass-shaking, but with a face like that, Harry supposes that he can just get away with it, always does in any case. Harry’s pathetic, he can admit that much. Just tries not to throw his arms around too much, grabs his crotch a lot to compensate for the lack of actual moves and he knows how to move his hips, he supposes. Make it look at least somewhat sexual, so it gets him far enough.

When they get to it, start moving to the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kid4GuZsae4), the ladies screaming in front of them and sloshing their drinks around, Harry couldn’t help but look over to where Niall was, and he regrets the choice immediately. Niall had given them a disclaimer, earlier on. Said he couldn’t move for shit and even his Irish jig was laughable, and Harry is struck with how true all of that was, but it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter because Niall looks like he’s genuinely having _fun_ , laughing with the ladies, flirting with them outrightly, as he gets on his knees for them, kisses their hands once he’s given permission, does an absurd twerk that has Harry laughing and sweating at the same time.

He looks over to Harry once the song gets quiet, prepping up for the massive beat drop for the final chorus, the words sung low and rough and the way he’s looked at makes Harry want to die, a bit. He comes closer, slinking past Zayn and straight up pulls on Harry’s hips and they practically grind together, and Harry can’t find it in him to tell Niall that that’s not what the client’s usually want out of their dancers, but. He moves with him, thrusting his crotch against Niall’s, moves slightly so he’s got Niall’s thigh between his own, and he swivels his hips slightly. Niall’s face is blank for a moment, then he’s smirking, looking so fucking smug and he takes Harry’s cap off, easily unbuttons the top few buttons of his costume, dragging his fingers through his exposed skin, and. Walks away, grinning at the hollering women and graciously accepting the notes they stuff into his waistband.

Harry looks over to Zayn, who’s so obviously trying to hide his laughter, barely fighting the grin on his face as he tries to focus on that one lady with the jet black hair in the McQueen dress, who’s whistling at him and waving around her flute of champagne in one glass, and a thick wad of cash in the other.

Harry doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know the exact protocol for what to do when your co-worker eyefucks and grinds on you in front of other people, so he just tries to finish this set as smoothly as possible. Rolls his hips, grabs his dick, eventually strips out of his shirt but keeps his trousers on, afraid of what might happen if everyone were to see his already half hard dick fighting the constraints of his underwear. Zayn and Niall strip down to their boxers, though, and Harry can’t stop staring at him. His skin’s pale, clear of any marks or tattoos and Harry wants to trace every inch with his lips.

Ridiculous. _Ridiculous._ Like Niall would want to do any of that with him.

*

Harry gets pizza for Louis and Liam on the way home after work. He was tipped even better than he thought he would, though it confuses him when he interacted more with his new co-worker than he did with any of his audience.

“Cheers, Curly,” Louis says as he scarfs down his first slice of pepperoni pizza, eyes still fixed on the screen before him as he jabs at his controller. Looks intense.

Liam isn’t so quick to thank him, though he does take a slice warily. Looks at Harry, then back down at his pizza, then back at Harry, before asking, “What happened?”

Harry doesn’t even try to deny the fact that Liam totally saw through his act of kindness as a way of ensuring that he would be listened to tonight. “Met a new dancer today.”

“Pitiful that you call yourselves dancers,” Louis mutters from the floor. “Please, you and Zayn and Grimshaw? You lot make me and Li look like proper fucking ballerinas.”

“His name’s Niall,” Harry continues, not even bothering to roll his eyes at Louis. “He's so cute but at the same time I want him to fuck me up a bit but like he’d ever do that, right, but-”

“Hang on,” Louis pauses the game, then looks over to him. “This the Irish bloke? With the horrible fake blonde hair?”

“What,” Harry is surprised to say the least.”How-”

“Zayn,” is all Liam says, but it’s more than enough to explain. Brings out his phone and shows Harry a picture of Niall, who clearly didn’t know he was being photographed, in the lift as they were going to the apartment. Harry had thought Zayn was just checking himself out on his camera as per usual. “Good on you, Haz, it’s like. Super fit.”

“Thus my dilemma, you twats,” Harry mutters, but Louis goes back to his game, Liam just shrugs and finally eats his pizza. “Heyyyyy, listen to me-”

“Ask him out,” is Louis’ solution, cheering when he gets a goal. “Like, you’re not bad-looking yourself, mate. Pretty sure it wouldn’t be a hardship to get him to fuck you-”

“ _Christ,_ Lou,” Liam mutters, taking another slice. “Could’ve left it at ‘ask him out.’”

Louis just shrugs, and Harry doesn’t have the heart to, but he really wishes he could hit them ‘round the head for being idiots who are of absolutely no help.

Takes the rest of the pizza with him amidst protests, and locks himself up in his room with it.

*

He and Niall end up working together pretty often.

The next time he sees him, they’re both firefighters for a bachelorette party, where they’re hosed down and wet for the most of the night. Harry has the extreme pleasure of seeing Niall soaked, clothes clinging to his body and showing everything.

The next time, they’re professors.

The time after that, doctors.

After that, prep school boys.

Then, for some reason that’s not for him to judge, magicians.

And every time they work together, Niall never. Never. Never fails to touch any part of Harry’s body, his waist, the small of his back, a finger running through his spine, a strong grip on his love handle. Never fails to dance with him, look him straight in the eye and urge him to move with him, and Harry is so, so far gone, and he’s such an idiot. Allows himself the smallest sliver of hope only to crush it himself later on.

And to his great pleasure/displeasure, Niall isn’t just an attractive bloke. Every time, before and after every night they work, he always talks, and talks. Feel immediately comfortable and shares easily with whoever, makes Harry feel comfortable too. Always invites anyone to  pub for some beers and talk, always invites anyone into his life, like no big deal. He’s confident, kind and genuine and shares his joy with no problem, and Harry so, so wishes he could just get a grip and ask him, so that he can hear the rejection and get on with his life.

*

They’re going back to the place where they first met. Client had asked for them specifically, apparently.

“But, why?” Harry is confused. He’s never had a repeat client before. Never had one request for him in particular, either.

“Come on, mate,” Zayn says, laughing as he pulls on his skimpy Iron Man costume over his underwear. Red, shiny leather bottoms, with red straps that meet in the middle of his chest connecting to a button. Harry presses on it once, and it bloody lights up. “Like, I’m pretty sure you know why.”

“But I don’t,” Harry mumbles, feeling much too conscious in his Captain America outfit. Red and white striped underwear, thin blue straps resting on his shoulders, his tattoos out for the whole world to see, and a bloody shield. Ridiculous. “I really don’t.”

“Feedback said that you and Niall had great chemistry together,” Zayn tells him with a smirk as he pulls on his mask.

“Wh-how did you”

“Hacked into the company email, read the reviews,” he shrugs, and Harry cannot believe. “Like, I know they think I’m pretty, but they only hired me too for the night to be polite. They want to see the two of you bump and grind.”

“But,” Harry stutters, putting on his own mask and thankful that it covers his reddening face. “I don’t-”

“Evening, boys,” Niall comes out of the elevator then, and Harry chokes. Niall’s dressed in black leather, zipper open down to his stomach and showing off his chest hair, and he’s got a bow and a quiver full of arrows, slung over his body. “Love the theme for tonight.”

Zayn laughs, loudly, and bangs on the button on his chest once to light it up, jumps into the air as if he were to take flight like Tony Stark, and Harry watches him resolutely, tries to ignore the way Niall’s staring at him and his lack of clothing.

*

This particular night is unbearably hot, for some reason.

Harry can’t stop sweating, can’t stop heating up, can’t stop blushing, can’t stop looking over to where Niall’s been moving to the [beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MS4_Z84-rRE), palming down his torso, to cup his dick in his hand, the way he usually does, but Harry actually has to bite his lip to stop the moan from spilling out, tonight.

Niall looks over, fucking _winks,_ then slinks over to him. Takes hold of his hips, squeezes at his love handles, the way that drives Harry crazy, and, in a surprising choice that Harry kind of want to die, he dips his fingers into the waistband of his pants. Just at the side, not really going in, but it’s there, and Harry can see in his eyes that he’s asking for permission, and he can’t not give it to him. Nods a little to show his assent, and then Niall’s smirking, grinning, then slides his hands fully in, cups his arse underneath the tight leather and Harry gasps a little as they’re bodies are flush together suddenly, Niall so close that Harry can feel his breath on his lips. Harry’s barely aware of the noise surrounding them, the ladies screaming and they’re throwing their notes on the ground in front of them, cheering for more, but he can’t. Can’t listen, or pay attention, not when Niall’s smiling at him, just at him, and bites his lip shyly.

He decides to be bold on impulse, slides his own hands through the flaps of Niall’s vest and presses palms flat against his defined stomach, and he receives a smirk in turn, his cheeks gripped harder.

Harry’s pretty sure he’s red all over, and he feels magnificent.

*

“Harry?”

Harry turns at the sound of his name, immediately blushes when Niall walks up to him, looking so cozy in his post-work clothes. Joggers, a pullover, trainers, his hair up in a soft wave, bag slung over his shoulder as he catches up to him.

“Want to come over to my place? Have some tea, watch a film?”

Harry blinks at the request, knows he’s blushing again, and asks quietly after a moment, “Is Zayn coming?”

“Just you,” Niall replies, small smile on his face, and he suddenly looks quite shy, a rarity in the short time Harry’s known him, and it makes him so much more endearing. “So? What do you say? You can pick the movie.”

And that’s how Harry finds himself in Niall’s flat, small but warm and clean and properly lived in, sitting on the end of Niall’s bed with Niall beside him as Clueless plays on the small television screen, nursing a mug of English Breakfast.

“Always had a thing for Paul Rudd,” Niall says, as if it were no big deal, watching intently as Josh comforts Cher on the staircase. “Like, I would. At any moment, I would let him do what he pleases with me if he so wanted.”

Harry stills, then nods, trying to act nonchalant, but really, he’s freaking out in every way possible inside. Takes another sip of his tea so he has something to do with his hands.

“Christ’s sake,” Niall mutters, and before Harry can even react, his mug is taken from him, then he’s being kissed. He makes a small sound at the back of his throat, then he’s kissing Niall back, holding his neck and bites his lip, lets Niall lick into his mouth immediately, and shit. He’d thought about this, so many times, and it’s just. Turning out so much better than he would have ever guessed.

They strip off their tops, hands skimming over every inch of skin exposed, and Niall lays him down on the mattress. Leaves a trail of kisses all over his torso and he slithers down to the floor. Pulls down Harry’s pants and boxers in one go after asking for permission, and goes straight for the tip. Licks over the head of Harry’s hard cock, and Harry shouts in surprise, immediately tangling his hands in Niall’s hair, and Niall takes him in, inch by inch, until he can’t take anymore and Harry’s cock is hitting the back of his throat.

“ _Shit_ , Niall,” he moans, Niall bobbing his head up and down along his shaft, his mouth and tongue warm around his erection, and he wraps what he can’t take into his mouth in his hand, pulling him off as he blows him. Harry gets close much too quickly, feels the impending need to come in the pit of his stomach as Niall sucks, swallows around him, and it doesn’t get any easier when he feels a finger tracing his rim, slightly dry, and he whines with want.

“Do it, come on,” he says, wants to sob at how good everything feels, and Niall’s gone for the quickest moment, then back on him, taking his cock back into his mouth and brings his hand back to his arse, fingers slippery with lube. Teases for a bit, then he pushes it in, slowly, up to the knuckle, and it’s the best kind of pressure. Harry moans for more, and Niall gives it to him, takes his dick even deeper into his mouth and adds another finger, and Harry almost can’t take it. Doesn’t come only because Niall squeezes the base of his cock just as he shoves three fingers into Harry’s arsehole, scissoring his fingers slightly and working in deeper, harder, until he reaches that bundle of nerves that has Harry arching off the bed, moaning much too loud into the still air of the room, makes his hips thrust uncontrollably into Niall’s willing mouth.

“You ready?” Niall asks, always asking if he’s ready, and he nods, his hair flopping all over the place and he needs to come, needs to, but he’d like to come with Niall inside him. “Okay, hands and knees first-”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Harry’s flipping over, rises to his knees and presents his arse to Niall, and with a great deal of satisfaction, he hears Niall moan behind him, jumps when he feels his hands squeeze at his cheeks. Waits impatiently for Niall to get the rest of his clothes off and put a condom on, lubing up his cock for him. Feels Niall get into position behind him, fingers pressing into his hips, and the head of his cock just pressing at his rim, and he could cry with how much he wants it.

“Niall, please,” he pleads, “fuck me, give it to me good.”

Niall smirks the tiniest bit at his begging, but kisses Harry hard, and complies. Pushes into him, slowly, then he’s in, and Harry moans at the feeling of being filled, clenches around Niall’s cock as he adjusts to the cock up his arse.

“Fuck, not fair,” Niall groans as he’s squeezed, gripping Harry’s hips.

“Come on,” Harry says, pushing back to get him deeper, and Niall gives it to him. Pulls out only to thrust back in harder, harder and faster every time, his pace quick and rough and Harry revels in it, loves the way his arse smacks against Niall’s hipbones, loves the way he can feel Niall in him, so deep, so good.

“God, fuck,” Niall cries, sounding so desperate and Harry feels so proud of himself, strangely, because he had made Niall moan out in pleasure like that. Niall fucks him harder, goes deeper and grunts out as his cock enters Harry again and again. “Take it, fuck, you take me so well-”

“Good, so good,” Harry tells him, and Niall praises him right back, _“fuck, you're incredible,”_ and he feels it. Feels so full and whole and it's so much better than he imagined. Feels drunk off of being with Niall, off of the way his hips are squeezed, off of the way his whole body moves with Niall's thrusts, off of the way his arse is pulled back to meet Niall's cock, off of the way he's being pounded and the way Niall leans down to mold his chest to Harry's back, his ear bitten lightly at the lobe. But he wants more, wants something else as well.

“Can I ride you?” he asks, breathless, and Niall's movements stutter as he moans at his request, and he pulls out, so hard for him, and Harry pushes him to lean against the headboard, and he's climbing on and sinking down too quick. They both moan once Niall's inside him again, and Harry doesn't waste any time. Moves his body, rolls his hips, getting Niall in deeper and hitting the spot, making him see stars. There are bruises on his hips, he's sure of it. His love handles squeezed to death as he's being guided on Niall's erection, and he feels a lot more confident than he really is, suddenly. Wilder, and he pins Niall's hands down to the pillow, and he bounces up and down, establishing a wild, fast pace. Feels his chest get tight and he leans his forehead on Niall's, steals his breath as he gets himself closer to the edge, not daring to touch his own cock, painful at the hardness of it, and he can't, not after Niall find the best angle and when he thrusts his hips up, entering Harry the absolute _perfect_ way, he's gone.

 _“Fuck,”_ he moans, loud and long and he's clenching around Niall's cock as he comes, so hard, harder than anything he remembers, untouched, and he's never felt so good. Opens his eyes to see ribbons of white over his chest, over Niall's, and he almost gets hard again at the sight. “Come on, you now-”

“No need,” Niall murmurs, but Harry shakes his head. He wants to see him get off, so he leans back, slightly, braces his hands on Niall's thighs, and trembles at the sensitivity of his entire body, his hole, fights through it, and moves his hips in minute motions, forward and back in tiny pumping shocks, tightens his hole around his cock and.

 _“Harry,”_ Niall yells, his hips thrusting up and slamming into Harry one last time, lifting them off the bed temporarily as he comes, so hard, Harry convinces himself that he can almost feel it through the rubber.

He slumps forward, wrapping his arms around Niall and hiding his face in his neck, so so sensitive and satiated, and his back, his sides, his thighs, are rubbed comfortingly, soothingly, and he's quite lucky. Allows his trembling body to be lifted off of Niall, and they're both on their sides after Niall carefully moves them, and he's pulled close, so close.

“You bleeding idiot,” isn't what he was expecting to come out from Niall's mouth first, and he looks at Niall, but the tone is light and there's a smile on his face, and he's instantly relieved, but very confused. “Could have been doing this for the last few weeks if you'd just ask me out.”

Harry freezes, opens his mouth, but he's beaten to it.

“Zayn told me you liked me, after that first day,” Niall supplies, and he sounds so fond anyway, Harry can't worry. “You think I'd grab your ass and grind on you if I didn't like you?”

“I,” Harry tries to start, but he's lost his words. Feels a little silly now, but to be fair, Niall could have been the one to ask him out. But he knows he's just trying to find excuses. “I’m sorry?”

Niall laughs, loud and just the way he is, and he pulls Harry closer to him, rolls them so that Harry’s lying on top of him, arms locked around his waist. Says, “Take me out on that date you promised, then we’ll see about forgiveness.”

Harry wants to kiss his grin away, until he can’t breathe and until he won’t know any other taste than him. So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> [Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV5lzRHrGeg)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://www.castlestylan.tumblr.com)


End file.
